Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Winter’s softly spoken question drags me from my thoughts, and I look across the island to my baby girl, who is studying me closely, obviously reading my shift in mood.
“Yeah, baby, I’m good.” I glance at her plate that’s mostly empty. “Are you done eating?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, hurry and get on your tights and shirt so we can get to school.”
Without a word, she slides off her stool and heads for her room while I clean up her plate and dump the last of my coffee down the drain. When she comes out a few minutes later, I fight the urge to laugh.
She did as I asked, adding tights and a shirt under her dress—neither matching. The tights are a bright rainbow stripe, and the shirt is black with gold stars. Going to her, I turn her away from me and fix the back of her dress so the Velcro is all attached, then stand back as she slips on her high-top sparkly Converse sneakers. If her mother saw her, she’d probably lose her damn mind. Hazel is a stickler about making sure that Winter is always matching, without a hair out of place. I couldn’t give two fucks but try my best to make sure she is at least presentable. Most school days, it’s easy since she wears a uniform. Today, not so much.
“Do I look like a princess?” She spins to face me, the heavy crown on her head wobbling.
“The prettiest princess around.” I grab my coat and shrug it on, then take her sweater down off the hook. “Do you have all your school stuff still in your bag?”
“Yes.”
“Your library book and your computer?” I ask just to confirm, and her head falls back to her shoulders, testing the security of the crown she’s wearing before she drops it forward and rushes toward her room, probably to get one or both of those things.
When she comes back, I see it was both, then I watch her put them in her backpack before I help her put on her sweater.
Taking her bag from her, I grab my keys, then hit the lights and leave the apartment, locking up before walking to the elevator.
When we get downstairs, the guys renovating the building are already hard at work, and at the rate they’re moving, it’s only going to be a few more months until the downstairs will look less like a construction zone and more like the apartment building my brother Clay envisioned when he purchased the property.
His apartment takes up the entire fifth floor, while mine and Tucker’s take up the fourth. There’s one on the third that’s saved for our brother, Dayton, when or if he decides he’s going to move to Nashville, which at this point is still up in the air. The other apartment on that floor will be open to friends and family when they come into town to visit once it’s done. And then the second and first floors will have smaller units that will be available to rent along with a gym and a social area. A smart investment when you’ve got the money Clay has.
After making sure Winter is buckled into her seat, I drive the fifteen minutes to her school and head through the drop-off line, which is a lot faster-moving than the pick-up line after school. As we wait, I notice most of the kids Winter’s age and younger are dressed up. None of the girls within view are princesses, which means I might get a call this afternoon from the principal. If I do, I guess we will have a conversation about them clarifying what a realistic goal for a future career is.
“Are you picking me up or is Uncle Clay?” she asks from the backseat as she unhooks her belt and gets on her backpack while I move toward the head of the line.
“Neither today. I gotta work, and Uncle Clay is out of town, but Miss Karen will be here.” Karen is her nanny, a woman I hired when I moved to Nashville. She picks up Winter when Clay or I can’t and hangs with her until I get home. Or if I have a case, she’ll come over when needed. I lucked out, since she’s retired and her family all lives out of town, so she has open availability.
“Okay.” She leans forward between the seats to give me a kiss, then ducks into the back when I come to a stop.
“Hey, Winter,” Mrs. Huffel, her kindergarten teacher from two years ago, greets as she opens the back door and helps her down, since it’s still a little difficult for her to do on her own—at least with her backpack on.
“Hi, Mrs. Huffel,” Winter chirps before looking back at me. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you. See you tonight.”